Alpha Unit: MIA
by Hecticality
Summary: Season 5... Tawnia receives a surprising visit - and a little salvation - from the last person she ever expected to see again.


_TITLE: Alpha Unit: MIA _

_AUTHOR: Hectical_

_RATING: Rated K  
_

_SUMMARY: Season 5. Tawnia receives a surprising visit - and a little salvation - from the last person she ever expected to see again. _

_DISCLAIMER: Written for pleasure, no profit gained, The A-Team and associated concepts and characters are not my intellectual property, I'm just a big 80s nerd and Steven J Cannell is my god. You know, the usual._

_**History will be the best judge of the activities of the group of soldiers known as The A-Team. Unfortunately, in history's absence, the US Military filled the void and its actions have remained puzzling at best. The swiftness with which the trial was carried out and the harsh finality of eventual sentencing, not to mention the murky denials issued from high echelons in response to any request for information, have raised questions among those brave enough to ask them. As a citizen of these United States and a student of history, you must ask yourself: What really happened? The following may be an answer to that question – John Smith, Templeton Peck and Bosco Baracus did not die that day…**_

_**- From 'Fortune's Soldiers: My Life With The A-Team' by Tawnia Leftcourt**_

OOOO

There were two things currently making Tawnia Leftcourt very happy. One was the fact that Lacey had stopped screaming two minutes ago and was currently absorbed in pulling an eye out of her Big Bird doll. The other was the letter she had picked up from the post office earlier that afternoon. A slim envelope sat on passenger seat of her station wagon, startlingly white in the sunshine that flashed through the window as she drove home.

_Could it be an acceptance letter?_ She'd only just sent off her manuscript a month ago. Her friend was an agent with a publishing house and had encouraged her to submit her book and all that she had heard since sounded so promising. To be truthful, she'd always thought this sort of thing took longer. Still, to have her name on a published book would be something to be proud of.

Smiling, she turned into the driveway of the modest brick house she had bought with Brian the year before, shortly after Lacey's first birthday. She'd spent a long honeymoon on various digs in Central America with Brian, swatting at mosquitos and tripping over spiders in the jungle, before discovering she was pregnant. The speed with which Brian had hauled her out of a trench and returned her to the US startled her. The cotton wool he wrapped around her during her pregnancy, not to mention the fact they were living with his mother, enraged her. The sight of him holding his baby daughter for the first time enchanted her and she forgave him everything, ever. It had taken them a year but he had bought this house in a nice street in Pasadena and even stayed to help unpack boxes before returning to his favourite excavation. Thinking of her absent husband, Tawnia sighed gustily and grit her teeth, making a conscious decision not to get angry at him, as she pulled savagely on the handbrake and undid her seatbelt. He'd promised this was his last season for a while, even introduced her to the graduate student who was being groomed to replace him. He'd applied for a teaching post at UCLA and she had to trust that it would come through. He'd be home in two months.

Unable to wait any longer, she reached for the letter and slit the top with a fingernail. The paper was thick and cream coloured, emblazoned with a red logo at the top. Impatient, excited, she scanned the contents.

_Dear Mrs Leftcourt._

_Thank you for your manuscript submission "Fortune's Soldiers: My Life With The A-Team". I read it with some interest. Although the material itself is quite interesting, it is not the kind of book we here at Anderson House Publishing normally consider. With that in mind I must advise that we are unable to accept your manuscript for publication. _

_As per our attached submission guidelines we will not be returning the submission… _

Not the kind of book they published? Anderson House had an entire wing devoted to publishing exactly the kind of material she had submitted. She had a book on her shelf right now that was published by Anderson House. It was the memoir of a Special Forces colonel. She'd used it as a resource for her own book. Fingers limp with disappointment, she let the letter drop back into her purse. Well, there were other publishers. She'd always thought this sort of thing took longer.

Tawnia stared at the house and it stared back, defiantly empty. Sighing again, she opened her door and headed to the back of the car to retrieve her groceries. _This must be what it feels like to be a single mom_ she thought gloomily, allowing herself a moment of miserable self pity. Unbuckling her wriggling daughter, she pulled her out of her car seat and hugged her for a moment, inhaling her scent. Lacey smacked her in the face with Big Bird and laughed uproariously.

"Great, thanks, monster child," Tawnia muttered, setting her down on the pavement of the driveway and closing the car door. Grasping the girl's hand, she went to get the groceries.

Lacey pulled on her hand and whined as Tawnia wrestled manfully with two overfull paper sacks of groceries and her purse.

"Roooooad, mummy, roooooad," her daughter moaned, pulling toward the kerb.

"One day I'm going to let you go play on the road, Lacey, then where would we be?" she said sharply, as one of the sacks overflowed and sent an avocado bouncing to the pavement.

"Shit." Tawnia set down the sacks, got a better grip on Lacey and bent to retrieve the fruit which was heading for the gutter.

"Let me help you with that, yeah?"

The voice was male and startlingly familiar. She straightened and looked straight up into a wide, white smile on a face she had never though she would see again. He handed her the avocado and picked up her groceries as she stood there gaping and Lacey shrank against her leg.

"Coming inside?" He gestured at the house and she mutely nodded, closed the car and followed HM Murdock up her driveway to the front door.

OOOO

"You've cut your hair," he said as she handed him a glass of lemonade. "I think."

She nodded and poured a glass for herself before returning the jug to the refrigerator. "Good pick up." She covered her discomfort with a long swallow of her drink and collected herself before joining him at the dining table. The open plan interior of the house was dim and she usually left it that way in the heat of the day. It made the utility bills easier to handle and kept the house cool. Lacey ran under her feet as she crossed the clean linoleum floor, Big Bird clutched in one hand and plastic sipper cup in the other. Automatically she swerved around the toddler and kept walking.

"Fancy footwork," Murdock commented. Tawnia nodded and took a seat beside him. "It's something you pick up pretty quickly," she replied absently and fixed him with a questioning look. "Not that I'm not pleased beyond belief to see you, Murdock, but why are you here?"

He grinned at her. "Pleased beyond belief?"

Tawnia returned his smile. "Something like that."

He gestured around at the house. "This is definitely not where I pictured you living… But… uh… you look well." He took a long drink from his glass and it occurred to her that he was as uncomfortable as she was.

"Brian's in Guatemala", she said, to ease the awkwardness. "He'll be sorry that he missed you."

"How's the old Bry-ster going then?" Murdock drawled laconically. "Still making mud pies?"

Tawnia nodded. "For now. He's applied for a teaching post at UCLA for next year. We're hoping he'll get an offer." Lacey streaked past again, slamming into Tawnia's legs. Her mother picked her up and plopped her down on her lap where the girl immediately snuggled back into her embrace, regarding Murdock with wide blue eyes and a finger in her mouth. Tawnia brushed her daughter's hair out of her face. "With Lacey determined to go and play on the road and stick her fingers in every electrical socket she can find, I could really use him at home."

"She sounds like a girl after my own heart. Wait til she announces she want to fly a chopper!" Murdock looked impressed and pulled a face at Lacey, who shrank back against her mother, but looked intrigued. He did it again and she giggled and handed him her Big Bird. Solemnly he took it and made it dance on the table top while Lacey giggled again. Watching Murdock play with Lacey, Tawnia was suddenly swamped with a sense of unreality.

"Uh, since we're playing catch up, HM, how have you been?" She put Lacey gently on the floor and stood up, heading to the kitchen to retrieve the jug of lemonade. "And by how, I mean where the hell."

"Huh?" he looked up from where he was helping Lacey feed Big Bird the contents of her cup. "Uh, around. You know. Working. I left the VA." He made Big Bird cough and pulled another face at Lacey. "I'm perfectly sane now." He turned back to the child who was looking at him solemnly. "Lacey, can I ask you a serious question?" She didn't respond. "Would you like to learn to fly a chopper?" He smiled and nodded and Lacey did too, laughing happily. Tawnia shook her head.

"Stop corrupting my child. What have you been doing? Talk to me. You didn't just wake up this morning in Pasadena and decide to drop by." She paused. "Unless you did… Murdock, you have a place to stay don't you? You're not…"

He shook his head. "Do I look like I sleep on a park bench?"

She took in his scruffy jacket, tattered cap, scuffed sneakers, and raised an eyebrow. He shrugged. "The answer is no. I didn't wake up in Pasadena this morning. I came to offer Lacey flying lessons."

She blinked at him, straight faced. "I spend my day with a two year old. I can keep this up for hours. Murdock, why are you here?"

Sighing, he handed Big Bird back to Lacey and stood up, bringing his glass to Tawnia where she stood in the kitchen.

"Yeah, okay. I'm not here to teach your baby how to fly. Although, you know, if she ever asks…"

Tawnia nodded impatiently. "She's probably not going to want ballet lessons any time soon either. You were saying?"

He rubbed a long hand across his jaw and looked at her thoughtfully. Then he said the last thing she expected him to say.

"I've read your book."

She felt her face creasing in bewilderment. "What? How?"

"Eh, I know a guy who knows a guy. But I've read it."

"Well – well what did you think?" she stammered. He fixed her with a gimlet stare. "Where's me?"

"Huh?" The bewilderment cleared slightly. "You? I left you out as much as I could."

"Yeah," he said drily, frowning. "I _noticed._"

She laughed nervously. "Oh, Murdock. I left you out because I figured that after the trial your cover was still intact. Who was I to blow it? I tried to contact you, to ask you about it, but…"

A thought occurred, one which had in truth been nagging at her since she first saw him.

"Is the team really dead?"

He looked away for a moment and she felt a pang of wretched sadness. They must be dead. If he was here… they must be dead. He looked back at her then leaned in close and put an arm around her shoulders.

"No." His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it shocked her.

"What?" Her voice was louder than she intended. He shot a furtive glance around the room and hugged her closer, laying a finger on her lips.

"Shush. No, they aren't dead, that's just the official cover. They are…" and he paused and once more looked furtively over her shoulder. "In Russia."

"Russia? Murdock, seriously?" She regarded him suspiciously. He was a little insane, after all. Perhaps he was imagining it?

"No, really." He steered her back toward the table, sat her down, then brought the jug and glasses over and poured them both another glass of lemonade. "Russia. Don't shout it. You don't know who your neighbours are."

"Yes, I do. Marty and Glenda Freeman. Marty is a science teacher, Glenda used to clean at the hospital before she hurt her back. Now she mostly watches Dallas re-runs. _Russia?_"

"She _says_ she's watching Dallas. How do you know she didn't shoot JR? Does she have a Russian accent?" he hissed, clutching his glass. "Yes, they're in Russia. Deep _deep_ undercover. Like, BA had to learn the Cossack dance, you know?"

"I don't understand. What are they doing in Russia?"

He turned away coyly. "Believe me when I say that if I told you I'd have to kill you."

Feeling that sense of unreality returning, Tawnia pushed a hand through her hair and sat back, regarding Murdock uneasily. "Why _are_ you telling me this?"

"It's about your book," he said, returning to a disconcertingly normal manner. "You can't publish it."

_The letter._ She wasn't stupid. She put the numbers together, grimly.

"Can't or won't be permitted?" she asked coldly. He shrugged.

"You know how it is."

Another thought occurred to her. "Who sent you here? You didn't just show up on your own, did you?"

After a moment, he shook his head slightly. She opened her mouth to ask another question and he abruptly leaned forward and laid a finger across her lips. Again, he shook his head then gave her a meaningful look. Getting the hint, she nodded and subsided.

"So," she said, disappointment growing, "what now?"

"Well," he said brightly, "the book stops here…. Get it? The _book_ stops here."

She pressed her lips together, unimpressed, and looked at him coldly. His smile dimmed a little. "Sorry Tawnia, it's not going to happen."

She sniffed and suddenly felt tears pressing at her eyes. She'd spent the better part of a year on that manuscript. It felt like it might have been her salvation. He drank his lemonade and pretended not to notice her struggle for control.

"What am I going to do now?" she asked him, hating the catch in her voice. "Tell me that. What?"

"Uh…" He looked at her, surprise and confusion working their way across his features.

"I'm stuck here all day watching Sesame Street. Brian is god knows where and if he doesn't get this job at UCLA…" She stopped, hearing herself becoming shrill, and breathed deeply for a moment. "That book was my _work_, Murdock. It was my… _me._ You can't just tell me…"

"It's already been told," he said quietly, leaning over and wiping a tear away from her cheek. "It's done, kid."

She sighed and, after a moment, nodded slowly. "I suppose that's how it is." She swallowed and scrubbed at her face with one hand and a sleeve. "At least the guys are still alive." She paused, then looked at Murdock. "Can I tell Amy?"

His reaction told her that the question took him by surprise. "Uh…" he began, then shook his head. "No, definitely not a good idea. Nope, not a good idea at all." He fixed her with a solemn look. "You get to know. Nobody else. National security and… overall… the safety of the team."

"But… Amy?" Tawnia tilted her chin at him. "She was practically a part of the team, wasn't she?"

Murdock shook his head again. "She can't know. It could be dangerous for her too."

"But – " she began. Again he leaned across and shook his head, again, another furtive glance. She got the message and nodded.

"Alright, fine. It's my secret. I promise."

He sat back, looking satisfied. She stood up and walked over to where Lacey was sitting on the floor, pushing a Barbie along and making car noises. She stood for a moment looking at her daughter, digesting what she had been told. "What am I going to do with myself now?" she asked aloud, more to the universe in general than the man sitting behind her.

"I liked your book," he said in a decisive tone. "Thrills, spills, mostly accurate, for all that there was no Murdock."

She shrugged. "Thanks."

He looked at her, his expression clearing and brightening. "Hey," he said. "I've got kind of a swell idea, I think."

She turned to face him and he smiled at her benignly.

"Have you ever considered turning it into a novel?"

OOOO

One hour, three glasses of lemonade, four characters and one rather enjoyable episode of Sesame Street later, Murdock walked out of the house and into the sunshine, adjusting his cap in a satisfied sort of way. Tawnia watched him go from the front door. He had her copy of the manuscript under his arm and her back up floppy disks in his pockets. He felt her eyes on him as she walked away down the block. He hoped she could make it work, he very sincerely did. He'd given her all he could. Behind him, he heard the door close and he quickened his pace. At the end of the street, a plain dark sedan awaited him. He pulled open the back door and slid into the seat.

"How did it go?"

Hunt Stockwell turned around from his position in the front seat and pulled off his sunglasses. Murdock nodded to him and handed him the paper and the disks.

"You have your… uh… deniability. She's gone for it."

"Huh." Stockwell gave an amused chuckle. "The novel?"

Murdock nodded. "Hannibal's plans always work. Should be a best seller." He paused, struck by an idea. "But she has some conditions."

The other man gave him a sharp look. "Conditions?"

"Yup. She's always played hard ball, our Miss Baker."

"Dare I ask what these conditions are?" Stockwell sounded unimpressed but Murdock thought he caught an interested note in the man's voice.

"Uh…" he said, thinking of Lacey and Tawnia's outburst. "How much pull do you have with the bigwigs at UCLA?"

OOOO

_**Lost in the jungle warzone of Viet Nam, they found each other and forged a bond stronger than brotherhood. Now they are on the run in the urban jungles of New York City, hunted for a crime they didn't commit, hated by authorities who want them to disappear, loved by the people they defend from criminals and tyrants. **_

_**They are Alpha Unit. **_

_**Tara Brace is a young reporter with nothing to lose. When she hires Alpha Unit to help her investigate the theft of a priceless museum artefact, she has no idea of the danger, adventure and romance that awaits her.**_

_**ALPHA UNIT: MIA, the exciting debut from author Tawnia Leftcourt, will be available in good book stores in December. **_

_This reviewer found it an enjoyable romp through the streets of New York with the engagingly drawn characters and realistic action sequences as standout joys. The heroine Tara Brace, rings believably true although, given Leftcourt's past as a reporter herself, this is to be hoped for. The same goes for her descriptions of the surprisingly political world of archaeologists and museums - considering that Leftcourt is in fact married to a tenured professor at UCLA, one can safely assume that her biting portrayals of academics in chaos is drawn from a ring side seat. More satisfying is Alpha Unit themselves, in particular the gritty, brilliant pilot, Harry Martin. The rest of Alpha Unit – hardbitten Major Jake 'Genghis' Sutton, charmer Tyrone 'Cool' Palm and bareknuckle brawler Colin O'Connelly, whose Irish accent reads like an odd sort of poetry – are the kind of guys you'd want on your side if you were ever in trouble. In Harry Martin, however, Leftcourt has created a character who may successfully carry a whole series of these compulsively readable stories. Here's hoping there are more to come._

_Complex literature it is not, but as a guilty pleasure it is the sin of the Silly Season. _

_- LA Times Literature Review, November 15, 1986_


End file.
